


DM me the details

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [50]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Brock Rumlow is bossypants, Darcy doesn't want to be rude, F/M, They're flirting on Insta and fighting at work, You've Got Mail Vibes, but she will be, but they don't know it, meet cute, oh she will be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27157579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Darcy Lewis wants to flirt with her hot Insta follower from that gym, but first she needs to tell off the uptight schmuck from STRIKE Alpha who keeps sending her bossypants emails. Brock Rumlow is such a workplace Karen.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484168
Comments: 245
Kudos: 620





	1. backstories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CreativeNameHere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativeNameHere/gifts).



> *I own nothing! CreativeNameHere prompted this idea and it is _wonderful._

“Are you drooling over Gym Guy again?” Jane said, peering over Darcy’s shoulder.

“Shut up,” Darcy grumbled. She had a little crush on an guy who Insta’d under the handle Cross_Bonez_DC. They’d connected online when she and Thor did a funny Insta video at one of his gyms. He’d responded and started following her online. He was wildly attractive: abs for days, gorgeous face, even perfect hair. Darcy hadn’t been to the gym in months, but she could tell that he had. His online persona was all boxing, weightlifting videos, and general fitness memes. Jane called him Gym Guy. But he wasn't a snob. He liked all her videos doing reviews of Cheetos flavors and weird new Oreos and ragged her endlessly about her cholesterol. They’d planned to meet for coffee once, but he’d been called away for work. Darcy figured it would never go anywhere--she liked Pop Tarts more than pushups--but it was fun to flirt back and forth. He'd made her actually enjoy logging onto her social media as much as Doug the Pug, honestly. She didn't know dudes could do that the way puppies and Squishmallows accounts did. She was afraid she was nursing a major crush at this point.

Darcy was scrolling through Instagram, sort of zoning out, as she liked his latest clip of himself boxing when the DM came through. She grinned and opened her messages.

**Cross_Bonez_DC:** You liked that sparring vid, huh?

 **Dollface_D:** The abs are nice, but have you had a donut?

 **Cross_Bonez_DC:** You don’t need abs, sweetheart.

 **Dollface_D:** You’re just saying that because you know I don’t have any!

 **Cross_Bonez_DC:** ….

She could see him typing when she saw that she had a work email waiting. Darcy recognized the sender and huffed. It was the asshole from SHIELD. They’d been squabbling ever since she and Jane had come to DC and Darcy had accidentally parked in his reserved space.

**Dollface_D:** BRB. I’ve gotta hand this schmuck from work his ass. (5 minutes later) Sorry. He’s always hassling me about something. 

**Cross_Bonez_DC:** It’s all right. You want somebody to do a few rounds with him?

 **Dollface_D:** No, but I’m thinking about starting a prank war, he’s so uptight. I parked in his space once and he’s completely anal about it. Now emails me about something at least once a week!

 **Cross_Bonez_DC:** Shit. What an asshole.

* * *

From: [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

To: [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

Subject: Break Room Issue

Ms. Lewis,

It has come to my attention that the flavored coffee in the break room probably belongs to you. I would ask you to refrain from using the agency-issued carafés to store flavored coffees. You cannot get the flavor out. Those of us who drink our coffee black don’t want it to taste like maple syrup or sugar cookies. I’m sure you understand this issue and will be considerate of others. I appreciate your future compliance.

Regards to you and Dr. Foster,

Cmdr. Brock Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha

  
  


* * *

To: [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

From: [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

  
Subject: Re: Break Room Issue

Dear Cmdr. Rumlow,

  
Uh, no. Those are community break room supplies. Ergo, our lab is allowed to use them to store our coffee, too.

  
Thanks for your concern,   
Darcy Lewis

  
  


* * *

**Dollface_D:** I just told him to walk it off. Reasonably politely. 

**Cross_Bonez_DC:** Good for you, sweetheart.

 **Dollface_D:** he’s just so SMUG. A total Karen. I’m so lucky that my boss is a Big Deal, so people can’t push us around. Oh, wait, here he comes again! He can't let this go!

 **Cross_Bonez_DC:** Jesus.

* * *

From: [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

To: [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

Subject: Re: Re: Break Room Issue

Ms. Lewis,

I understand that you and your boss are young, so maybe you don’t understand office etiquette yet. But I’m not going to be so accommodating if it happens again.

  
Brock Rumlow

* * *

To: [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

From: [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Break Room Issue

Dear Elder Commander Rumlow,

Just because you’ve been at SHIELD long enough to pull rank, that doesn’t mean I’mma let you. Suck on my Maple Bourbon Bonbon coffee.

Darcy MF-ing Lewis  
  


* * *

Darcy grinned as the email swished away. “Jane!” Darcy called. “I’ve started a work fight with Rumlow. Will you back me up?”

“Sure,” Jane said distantly. She was doing math at the dinner table. 

“Do you know who that is?” Darcy asked.

“Sure,” Jane said, tapping her calculator. She looked up. “Who?”  
  


* * *

**Dollface_D:** Whoops. I may have emailed angry. 

**Cross_Bonez_DC:** How angry?

 **Dollface_D:** Boss has my back. This is gonna be fun, though.

 **Cross_Bonez_DC:** Guy gives you shit in person, punch him in the face.

 **Dollface_D:** You think so?

 **Cross_Bonez_DC:** Not enough guys get punched. Hand to God. He probably won’t, though. Too scared to say shit to your face.

 **Cross_Bonez_DC:** You want me to teach you to throw a punch?

 **Dollface_D:** I bet you say that to all the girls.


	2. face to face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy was sitting at a coffee shop, double-checking Jane’s cranberry orange muffin order was correct, when she was tempted to look at her notifications. She knew what she wanted to see--and she got it. Another DM from Gym Guy.

**Cross_Bonez_DC:** Do I ever get a number? Or to know your name? 

She typed in her phone number and refolded the brown paper bag carrying Jane’s muffins. She was nervous. Would he call, she wondered? She’d walked two blocks towards the SHIELD office when her phone rang. “Hello, unknown number,” she said, smiling.

“Dollface,” he said. She shivered a little. “How’s your day going?” he asked.

“I’m getting my boss’s very specific muffin order,” Darcy said. “And then I’m going into work. What about--” On the phone line, she heard people talking. Not talking, yelling.

“Excuse me, baby,” he said. “Guys, hustle, hustle!” 

“Ooooh,” Darcy said. She’d long wondered what he did for a living. She and Jane had debated it. Darcy had gone with personal trainer. Jane had guessed--she’d been snarking--finance guy. Darcy felt smug now.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he said. 

“I have a bet with my boss that you’re a personal trainer,” she said. “I just won.”

“Well, uh,” he said, “I’d hate for you to lose a bet. I am running a training exercise, as it happens.”

“As it happens,” she echoed, smiling. “Okay. We won’t tell my boss.”

“Agreed,” he said. There was a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t we gotten together?”

“You stood me up!” Darcy said.

“I had a work...thing,” he said. “I wanted to be there.”

“Uh-huh,” she said.

“Let’s do something tonight. You and me, face to face. Real world,” he wheedled. Darcy swallowed. 

“Okay,” she said. “Tell me where to be, Hot Stuff?”

“Oh, yeah. Hot Stuff, huh?” he said, sounding pleased. He reeled off an address and Darcy agreed. She heard him yell as she hung up the phone. “Hernandez, watch your back!” he shouted. “Damn it.” 

* * *

  
To:  [ m.hill@shield.gov ](mailto:m.hill@shield.gov)

From:  [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

Subject: FW Re: Re: Re: Break Room Issue

  
Maria,   
Foster’s assistant is being a pain in my ass.   
  
See below.   
  
\--------------------   
  
_ To:  _ [ _ b.rumlow@shield.gov _ ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

_ From:  _ [ _ d.lewis@shield.gov _ ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

_ Subject: Re: Re: Re: Break Room Issue _

_ Dear Elder Commander Rumlow, _

_ Just because you’ve been at SHIELD long enough to pull rank, that doesn’t mean I’mma let you. Suck on my Maple Bourbon Bonbon coffee. _

_ Darcy MF-ing Lewis _ _   
  
_

* * *

  
  
To:  [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

From:  [ m.hill@shield.gov ](mailto:m.hill@shield.gov)

  
Subject: FW Re: Re: Re: Break Room Issue

  
Rumlow,

It’s cute that you think I have time for this. I’ll have HR sit down with her. -MH

  
  
  


* * *

“Here’s your muffin, Janeybug,” Darcy said, coming into the lab. “I have a date tonight. With Gym Guy.” She couldn’t help it. She wanted to talk about it. Him. She felt all giddy. She couldn’t stop grinning. She’d smiled at someone on the Metro. It was all him, she knew. She never smiled on public transportation. “We’re meeting a bar on U Street. It’s a tiki bar.”

“Please don’t get murdered,” Jane said. Darcy sighed. This was a total Jane objection.

“Guys that hot aren’t serial killers,” Darcy argued.

“Ted Bundy, that  _ Dating Game  _ guy---” Jane listed.

“I rue the day that I signed us up for Investigation Discovery Go,” Darcy said, clicking on her email. She frowned at her screen. “Shit. You asshole,” she muttered. “Of course, he ruins my good day!”

“What?” Jane said.

“Bastard Rumlow kicked my email up to Maria Hill, like a little weasel,” Darcy said. “Now I have an HR hearing. This afternoon. This is totally going to wreck my date prep.”

“Date prep?” Jane said. “You never date prep.”

“I really wanted to do something fun with my nails. He always compliments me,” she said, sighing. “Rumlow sucks. It would be a mistake to hack the database and prank a million pizzas to his place, right?”

“Sure,” Jane said.

“You’re not mad at me, right?”

“Nope,” Jane said. “You were defending the coffee.”

* * *

Darcy pushed her way through the crowd at the bar, scanning nervously. The HR meeting had run long. Mostly because Jane had come and been a complete terror. The scientist had thrown around words like  _ targeted harassment of women  _ and  _ equitable division of workplace materials.  _ She would have made a great lawyer, really. The American Bar Association didn’t know what it was missing. Darcy looked for Gym Guy. She was afraid he’d left already. “Damn it, damn it,” she whispered to herself. She didn’t see him. 

“Can I get you something?” the bartender said.

“Um...mai tai,” Darcy said. She would wait, she thought. Maybe he’d just stepped out to check his phone. She was sitting at the bar when she decided to go ahead and plot her revenge against Rumlow. He deserved it. He just couldn’t suspect her. She had a brainwave and hacked into the systems to reset some things. His regular SHIELD office supply orders? Mysteriously gone. “Whoops,” Darcy said to herself. She sipped her drink. Then she came for his beloved black coffee. It was a simple thing to change regular to decaf in the auto ship menu. “My bad,” she whispered. She was plotting when someone came up behind her.

“Dollface,” a voice said. Darcy turned. “I got stuck at work,” he said. He was standing there as real as life, all beautiful cheekbones and pouty mouth. His dark hair gleamed under the bar lights. She let her eyes follow his tattooed, muscular arm down to where he was resting it on the bar top and then met his eyes again. Gym Guy was everything she’d fantasized about. He must’ve mistaken her wordless shock for upset. His expression was sheepish. “I’m sorry.” Darcy found her words.

“Wow,” she said. “You really look like that in real life.” He was almost unbearably handsome. Gym Guy grinned, worried expression falling away.

“You look better in person,” he said, leaning in close. 

“Yeah?” Darcy said, seriously tempted to kiss him. He seemed to study her.

“You’re all flustered,” he said. “That for me?”

“Mmm. Possibly,” she told him, grinning widely. “But also I just changed my work nemesis’s coffee order to decaf in the company system.” He tilted his head. She realized he was thinking.

“He won’t know?”

“It’s a standing order,” she said. He smirked slowly. It was hot. Stupidly hot.

“Good girl,” he said. She looked at him. He looked at her. There was a moment. She hoped he’d ask. If he didn’t, she would.  He did. She was toying with her straw when he spoke. “You wanna get out of here? My place is nearby.”  
  
"Yes," Darcy said.

* * *

“Dollface,” he murmured, as they stumbled around his darkened apartment. She was half out of her clothes.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know your name yet,” he said. He sounded quizzical.

“It’s—” Darcy began, before his fingers touched her mouth.

“Let’s tell each other in the morning,” he said, voice heated. “Okay?” It was clear he was liking the mystery.

“Okay,” she said, returning his kiss eagerly. “Tonight you’re  _ Must Wear a Condom  _ guy.” He laughed and nodded, kissing her again. They were on his bed when she pulled back. “Why Crossbonez?” Darcy asked. She’d always been curious. Was he a Pirates fan? He stopped.

“That’s a whole other life, sweetheart,” he said, face suddenly serious. He held her gaze in the dark. “A thousand miles from right here,” he added. He kissed her forehead gently. Darcy thought it was a damn fine seduction technique. Clever. He was nimble as he undressed her. The mouth that planted kisses on her thighs felt experienced. He knew exactly what he was doing, she realized. This was a twenty four karat womanizer. She decided to enjoy it. 

“Mmmm,” Darcy groaned. “You’re too good at this.” He looked up at her in the dark.

“Am I?” he asked.

“You’re Casanova,” Darcy told him. He shifted, moving on top of her.

“Yeah?” he said. He looked down at her body with an almost greedy expression. “You kind of look like heaven to me,” he said. Darcy burst out laughing.

“That’s a great line,” she said.

“You think I’m kidding you when I’ve been drooling over you for weeks,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s disrespectful.” He pouted at her. “What about my poor heart, huh?”

Darcy woke up to the sound of her phone blowing up. It was a freaked out Jane. She looked from the phone to the man sleeping next to her. He was snoring lightly. She wouldn’t wake him, she decided. She was dressed and getting ready to leave a note when he spoke. “You’re leaving before breakfast?” he said, voice rough with sleep. He sat up a little, rubbing his jaw. God, he looked great, Darcy thought. 

“My boss is freaking out,” Darcy told him. As if it to illustrate her point, her phone started to ring. 

“Your boss sounds relentless,” he said, head tilted.

“My boss is also my roommate,” Darcy admitted. She and Jane lived together.

“How does that work?” he said. 

“It’s been an adventure for the last decade or so,” she said. Darcy moved over to his side of the bed and leaned down to kiss him. He seemed surprisingly tentative. When she pulled back, he was looking at her.

“Can I call you?” he said.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” she told him. He watched her leave. "I better hear from you, Casanova," she called. He smiled. 

Once she was out on the sidewalk and headed for the nearest Metro station, she called Jane. “Hello, stop freaking out, I’m alive,” she said. “I just spent the night with him.”

“Okay,” Jane said, sounding relieved. 

“I’m headed back home now,” Darcy said. “Mom.”

“People get murdered all the time,” Jane said. “What’s his name, anyway?”

“Ummm,” Darcy said. “Well.”

* * *

  
“What’s got you all quiet, mate?” Rollins asked him. Rumlow looked up. He’d met his coworker for breakfast before they ran a training exercise.

“I spent the night with a woman,” Rumlow said, turning his coffee mug. “She left early this morning. Because her boss called.”

“Uh-huh,” Rollins said.

“I’m thinking she might be married,” Rumlow said.

“Could be,” Rollins said.

“Nobody lives with their boss,” Rumlow said, feeling sour.

“What?” Rollins said.

“She said they lived together,” Rumlow said.

“Mate--” Jack said, eyebrows raised.

“I know, I know,” Rumlow said. “Fuck. I like this woman.” He studied his cup and sighed. He looked around the diner. Jack was watching him.

“What’s the status of your feud with Foster’s assistant?” Jack said suddenly.

“I know you’re asking me that to cheer me up,” Rumlow grumbled. Jack grinned.

“I heard you got her in bloody trouble with HR,” Jack admitted. “Klein told me. You better watch out--those sheilas will portal you to Vanaheim or something.” He wagged his finger. Rumlow smiled to himself.

“Don’t take away all my fun, Jackie,” he said. He frowned.

"You like this married woman, yeah?" Jack said.

"Uh-huh."


	3. mistaken IDs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

To: [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

From: [ m.hill@shield.gov ](mailto:m.hill@shield.gov)

  
Subject: FW Re: Re: Re: Re: Break Room Issue

  
Rumlow,

I want you to apologize to Lewis before Jane Foster files a harassment complaint. -MH

  
  


* * *

“Shit,” Brock said, staring at his email. He’d heard the phone ding as they watched from an aerial walkway as agents practiced a tactical extraction in a warehouse.

“What?” Jack asked him, turning from the walkway railing. Below them, agents ran through clouds of fake smoke and gunfire.

“Hill wants me to apologize to Lewis,” he told the Australian. 

“So apologize,” Jack said, shrugging. 

“You people--” Brock began, grimacing.

“You people?” Jack said.

“Australians,” Brock corrected. “Australians are too fucking laid back. What happened to grudges?” He shook his head. “A man used to be able to hold a grudge--”

“Against a lab assistant?” Jack said. 

“A grudge,” Brock said, gesturing with his free hand. “A grudge gives a man’s life a little color, a little dimension. You got your favorite places, you got the people you hate, that’s how you organize it all up here.” He tapped his forehead. 

“That’s not crazy,” Jack said. “Not at all.” 

“Fuck,” Brock said, staring at his phone. “This is a shitty day.”

“Give a little, mate,” Jack said. “Then maybe you can concentrate on getting your married friend to leave her husband?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Brock admitted. “You think a woman would leave somebody for me?”

“Sure,” Jack said mildly. “You’re single, no kids. Makes you a catch, mate.”

“I’m a catch,” Brock repeated. He gazed down into the warehouse. “She’s younger than me,” he said. “I gotta play this right.” He sighed. “Needs real focus. I’ll give up my grudge, focus on my girl. That’s what I oughta do.”

“Too right,” Jack said.

* * *

From: [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

To: [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

  
Subject: Truce?

Lewis,

You outmaneuvered me with Foster’s harassment claims. Touché. I’m impressed. Can we call a truce on this thing?

Rumlow

  
  


* * *

To: [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

From: [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

Subject: Re: Truce?

Elder Commander Rumlow,

I’m disappointed that you’re giving in so easily. I thought you had more fight in you. I want my coffee carafé rights respected before I sign the armistice.

Lewis

  
  


* * *

From: [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

To: [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

Subject: Re: Re: Truce?

I can honor that. Armistice? -BR

* * *

To: [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

From: [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Truce?

Thank you. I was a poli sci major. It’s like being an honorary middle aged person. I’ve heard you know about that.  
  
Lewis  
  
  


  
  


* * *

From: [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

To: [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Truce?

You’ve got your coffee rights. And I’m not that old. -BR

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“Jane, Rumlow wants a truce,” Darcy said. “I think it’s a trick, but I’m maintaining the line on our coffee rights.”

“Good,” Jane said. Darcy snorted.

“He’s not even reacting when I imply he’s old,” Darcy said. “I bet Maria’s making him.” She giggled. Someone had told her that Rumlow was the oldest STRIKE Commander. 

“Why are you so happy?” Jane said.

“Who says I’m happy?” Darcy asked, grinning. 

“I can’t believe you’re happy because you slept with a guy whose name you don’t know,” Jane said.

“Don’t slut shame,” Darcy scolded.

“I’m not slut shaming, I just don’t want you to end up like--like the _Looking for Mr. Goodbar_ woman,” Jane said. 

“What? Who?” Darcy said.

“It’s an old movie. She meets this guy in a bar, takes him home, and he freaks out and kills her okay? I saw it on cable once when I was young,” Jane said.

“And it clearly scarred you for life,” Darcy said.

“Yes.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Darcy said.

“It was Diane Keaton,” Jane said. “I don’t want you to end up like Diane Keaton.”

“I promise you I won’t end up like Diane Keaton,” Darcy said.

“Thank you,” Jane said. 

“I don’t even like men’s ties,” Darcy added.

“Oh my God,” Jane said. She tossed her stress ball at Darcy’s head. Darcy ducked, laughing. 

“I’ll get you lunch,” Darcy said. “I need to pass those design specs to Ian, anyway.” Darcy’s old boyfriend, Ian Boothby, worked at university in northern Virginia. Jane contracted him out to build trial equipment sometimes. He and Darcy got along well enough that she usually met him for coffee whenever Jane had a new idea. Ian loved new projects. 

“Tell him I said hi---and I’m sorry about grading,” Jane said.

“Why?” Darcy asked, standing up.

“Nobody likes grading,” Jane said. Darcy tossed the stress ball back at Jane. Gently. 

* * *

**Cross_Bonez_DC:** How’s your workday going?

 **Dollface_D:** Less fun than my night, but not so bad, all things considered.

 **Cross_Bonez_DC:** What can I do to make it better?

 **Dollface_D:** Ooooohhhh.

 **Dollface_D:** Sir, you cannot be this pretty and then offer to make things better for me.

 **Cross_Bonez_DC:** You think I’m pretty?

 **Dollface_D:** It’s unfair.

 **Cross_Bonez_DC:** I don’t play fair. Meet me someplace.

 **Dollface_D:** It’s the middle of the workday!

 **Cross_Bonez_DC:** I can do a lot of things in 5 minutes. Where are you?

 **Dollface_D:** Actually, I’m at a Lebanese place getting takeout. How fast can you get here, Hot Stuff?

  
  


* * *

“Shit,” Brock said, stopped at a traffic light. He’d seen her first, standing on the sidewalk in front of the Lebanese restaurant. She was hugging a tall, thin guy. Smiling. They kissed briefly and exchanged bags. There was something familiar about their movements. They looked like a couple, Brock thought, with a sour grimace. He rolled down his window and strained to listen as the tall guy walked away. He had turned to look at Dollface as he walked backwards.

“I’ll see you soon!” she called out, as he turned back. “Don’t have too much fun with that!” She was positively glowing, Brock thought. The color of her hat matched the pink in her cheeks. 

“Right darce!” he said. What the hell was a darce, Brock wondered? Jack would probably know. This guy was British. Or Australian. Brock could never tell. Jack could tell. The guy waved at her before crossing the street.

“Fuck,” Brock muttered, sighing. This must be the husband. He was young. Dorky-looking, but young. And tall. That was his competition. This guy. And his English muffin fucking accent. Shit. Some women loved that shit. He’d seen them flock to Jack when he bleated like that. And she was still beaming as she went into the restaurant. They weren’t fighting, he realized. “Fuck,” Brock repeated. He found the nearest parking space and got out of the SUV in a wretched mood. When he pushed open the door to the restaurant, she was sitting at a table. 

“Hi,” she said, rising. She beamed at him. 

“Hey,” he said, feeling something inside him melt a little. He leaned down to kiss her carefully.

“Mmm,” she said, almost nuzzling him.

“So, you still like me, huh?” he said.

“Just as much as I did, what, five hours ago?” Dollface told him. She tugged him closer by his jacket. He leaned his chin down to kiss her a second time.

“God,” he said, realizing they were making out in a restaurant like a pair of teens. “We need to sit down.”

“What?” she said happily.

“You got me all fucked up,” he said, leaning in to whisper.

“Really?” she said, expression pleased. “Good.” She smiled down at the table. “You probably shouldn’t tell me, though. It’ll make me drunk with power,” she added, biting her lip. 

“Don’t care,” he said. “How long do I have you for?” She tilted her head.

“I can probably swing thirty minutes before anybody wonders where I am,” she said.

“Okay,” Brock said. He looked around. “You want lunch?”

“Not your apartment?” she said, grinning wickedly.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t let me buy you breakfast, sweetheart. So, you’re letting me buy you lunch.”

“Am I now?” she said pertly. She wiggled her eyebrows.

God, he was wrecked, Brock thought. He didn't care about her husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really fun to see how far I can keep this going, but I'm waiting to catch myself putting someone's name in the dialogue tags as "____ said" when the POV character isn't supposed to know the name! Ack!


	4. calls and reservations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“So,” Darcy said, grinning at Gym Guy across the table at the Lebanese place, “you actually called?” He smirked at her.

“I have great follow-through,” he said. “It’s one of the things you’d learn if we spent more time together, honey.”

“What about tonight?” Darcy said. “Are you free tonight?” She second-guessed herself and added, “unless that’s too soon?” But he’d actually lit up, she realized.

“I’m very free,” he said, gesturing. “All yours.”

“Great,” Darcy said.

“But I still don’t know your name,” he said.

“Ditto,” Darcy told him, possessed by a wicked thought. Jane would not approve. But Jane was the one who’d brought up the old movie. On her trek to the restaurant, Darcy had been thinking about how picking up a stranger was a rare thing now. Everyone met via dating sites or social media. It let you develop expectations, even before a first date. You knew a lot about someone. Which kinda killed the mystery. This guy had mystery in spades. She still wasn’t exactly sure what he did for a living. “But isn’t it kind of fun?” she asked him.

“Fun?” he said, blinking.

“Getting to know each other like this?” Darcy wondered. “Having a little mystery and excitement?”

“You want mystery and excitement?” he said, eyebrows rising. His expression went from surprise to something else she couldn’t identify. He made the greatest faces, Darcy was learning.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she said, unable to keep the gleeful note out of her voice. “Why can’t we keep the mystery?”

“That right?” he said, smirking slowly. 

* * *

Gym Guy picked her up at seven, names still unknown. It felt sneaky to Darcy. Fun sneaky. She’d met him several blocks from the office, if only because Jane had given her a big lecture about safety and industrial espionage in the sciences and implied he might want lab secrets. Darcy watched his car pull up and grinned to herself. Industrial espionage! If this was espionage, he was the hottest corporate raider ever. He popped open the door. “Hello,” he said. “You look great.” Darcy had changed in the lab’s bathroom.

“Thank you, I did it all to impress you,” she told him, climbing into his car and smoothing down her skirt. “I had to go two floors down to hide the evidence from my boss.” Darcy was sure Jane would have given her a feminist lecture on appearance politics too if she knew Darcy was dressing up for her nameless date. She smiled at him, then realized he was frowning. “What’s wrong?” Darcy asked.

“Well, uh,” he said. “Your boss sounds...difficult.”

“Oh. Well, less difficult and more definitive,” Darcy said. He stopped at a red light.

“If you, uh, needed space from that, you could always spend the night with me?” he suggested. She realized that he sounded tentative—did he think she would shoot him down?”

“I was sort of hoping you’d say that,” she said breezily.

“Yeah?” he said, grinning.

“Absolutely,” she said. She looked at him. “You wanna pick up dinner?”

“Baby, I made reservations,” he said, voice teasing. “Good ones.” He looked forward, then glanced at her, eyes raking over her body. “And you dressed up.” His voice thrilled her.

“I did,” Darcy said, leaning over to kiss the side of his face.

It was a very nice restaurant. Low-lighting, soft music, little tables. “Mmm,” Darcy said, looking around.

“What?” he said.

“You’re very good at reservations,” she told him.

“I’m good at so many things,” he said. “But I guess you’ll have to figure them out by yourself?”

“I want to,” she said, then blushed a little at her own tone. God, this guy had her all messed up. 

  
  
  


* * *

From:  [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

To:  [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

Subject: Break Room Brownies

Lewis,

Are these things poisoned?

-Rumlow

  
  


* * *

To:  [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

From:  [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

Subject: Re: Break Room Brownies

You think I would poison you?

* * *

From:  [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

To:  [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

Subject: Re: Re: Break Room Brownies

Yes

* * *

To:  [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

From:  [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Break Room Brownies

Fine. Be all cynical and mistrusting. I made them for my new boyfriend, only it turns out he doesn’t eat chocolate or sugar. I thought you could have them as a peace offering?

* * *

From:  [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

To:  [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Break Room Brownies

Thank you. I gave them to my team. New boyfriend must be some guy. 

* * *

To:  [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

From:  [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Break Room Brownies

I sense your sarcasm, but I’m too happy to care.

  
  


* * *

“Jane,” Darcy announced, looking up from her laptop, “I think Rumlow just  _ thanked me  _ genuinely for those brownies. Has one of the Nine Realms frozen over?” She looked at the scientist. Jane was squinting at readouts and hadn’t heard her. Darcy snorted and muttered to herself. “You’d think somebody so worried about me getting Diane Keaton’d would pay more attention to me.” She glanced at her phone and had an idea. She picked it up and took a video of herself blowing a kiss and sent it to Gym Guy with a caption.

_ I still like you even if you scorned my offer of homemade desserts, you health nut. _

  
  


* * *

“You seem happy, mate,” Jack told Brock as they left a meeting. He’d seen the other man grinning at his phone during the question and answer. Brock looked suddenly sheepish.

“Girlfriend stayed over again last night,” he said. He rubbed his jaw. “She’s great. Made me dinner. She actually likes to cook. She was sort of ragging me for not eating desserts.”

“Uh-huh,” Jack said. 

“Lots of people don’t like chocolate,” Brock said defensively.

“You talk about the husband yet?” Jack asked.

“No,” Brock said. He sighed. “I think she’s dodging the husband talk. She said something about keeping the mystery alive, getting to know each other, so we’re, uh, not discussing personal things. I think she’s not ready to tell me yet.”

“Huh,” Jack said. “Tough one, I reckon.” As they walked, Jack whistled in a low tone. “Jane Foster, five o’clock, mate.” Brock looked up. A petite, pretty brunette was walking and talking. To herself, apparently. She marched towards them, then abruptly got into the elevator. He looked at Jack with raised eyebrows. “Good looking, for a madwoman,” Jack said.

“Eh,” Brock said. “Pretty, but nothing to my--”

“You don’t even know her name,” Jack said skeptically, as they got on the elevator with Foster.

“She likes that,” Brock objected. “She thinks it’s exciting.”

“I need five of them,” Foster said suddenly. “Five!” Brock looked back at her and realized that she was talking to someone via Bluetooth. “Hold on, I’ve got to call you back, I’ve got another call. Darcy, where are you?” she said. The small woman huffed, eyes flashing. “What do you mean, you left a note. Oh. You’re buying underwear in the middle of the day? Why are you--nevermind, I don’t want to know about your new boyfriend,” she grumbled, apparently mollified. “I’ll see you in the lab,” Jane said. Then her voice went softer. “Yes. Mocha soy. Thank you. Bye.” Then she caught them looking. “I hate when she catches me not paying attention,” Foster said.

“She likes that boyfriend, though,” Rumlow said, grinning. He offered his hand. “I’m Brock Rumlow, she and I have exchanged emails.”

“Ohhhhh,” Jane said slowly, looking surprised. “You’re Commander Rumlow?” He nodded.

“We’re in a truce,” he told Foster. “I think.”

  
  
  
  
  



	5. truce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

“I totally get it,” Foster said, grinning at him widely. “The truce, I mean. I understand everything now.” Laughing, she backed out of the elevator. “She did not tell me!” the scientist called, disappearing down the hallway. Rumlow looked at Rollins.

“What the fuck was that?” Rumlow said.

“No bloody idea,” Rollins said.

“Weird,” Rumlow said. “It’s no wonder Darcy Lewis is so strange.”

* * *

“Darcy,” Jane said, walking into the lab. “I just met Commander Rumlow.” She stressed the last two words.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, replying to an email from Ian. “Ian says--”

“It was very, very interesting,” Jane said. “Rumlow, I mean. He brought up your truce.”

“Really?” Darcy said, surprised at Jane’s focus on him, not science. Rumlow?

“Uh-huh,” Jane said, crossing her arms. “I totally understand you ending the feud now--and why you’ve been preoccupied with your new relationship.” She waggled her eyebrows.

“Well, yeah,” Darcy said, not following. “I’m very happy. Have I been preoccupied?”

“Totally,” Jane said.

“Whoops,” Darcy said. “Sorry.”

“But I can’t believe it!” Jane said. She sat down laughing. “It’s so funny! But it’s a great story, you know?” she told Darcy, then returned to her notes. “Rumlow,” she said, chuckling and shaking her head. Darcy looked at her curiously. What was Jane talking about? Had Rumlow done something?

Darcy had gotten up to get coffee and was on her way to the coffee shop downstairs when she felt nosy. She didn’t want to admit to Jane that she didn’t understand. So, she stopped one of the SHIELD techs. “Excuse me,” Darcy said, “do you know where Commander Rumlow’s office is?”

“Floor eight,” the tech said. 

“Thanks,” Darcy said. He looked at Darcy and frowned. 

“He’s kinda scary, you know?” the tech said.

“I won’t let him intimidate me,” Darcy promised. She hopped on the elevator and hit the eight button. “Here we go,” she whispered to herself. “Face to face at last.” The elevator doors opened and she stepped out. Floor eight was a winding corridor of smaller offices, unlike her lab floor. Darcy went down one hallway, then the next. By each door, there a small sign with an office number and a last name. She swiveled her head back and forth, checking each side: 

_122 J. Hernandez_

_123 M. Rodriguez_

_124 K. Callahan_

_125 J. Rollins_

_126 R. Lee_

_127 M. Evans_

Finally, Darcy spotted the name she’d been looking for at the end of the hallway. The corner office. _128 B. Rumlow._ The door was shut. She rapped softly. Nothing. She knocked a little harder, just to be sure. “He’s out,” a voice said. Darcy turned. A guy was leaning out of office one-twenty-four. “Can I help you?”

“Um,” Darcy said. Intelligently. “Will you tell Commander Rumlow that Darcy Lewis stopped by?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said. He smiled. “I can do you one better. Hold on.” He came back with a pen and a slim notepad. “In case I forget,” the man she assumed was Callahan said.

“Thanks,” Darcy said. She took the pad, scrawled on it, and tore it off. “I appreciate it,” Darcy said, handing back Callahan his stuff.

“No problem,” he said, disappearing back into the office. Darcy looked at her note. 

_What did you do to my boss? -Darcy Lewis_

Grinning, she stuck it in the tray below the nameplate by Rumlow’s office. She’d turned when another idea occurred to her. She caught Callahan’s eye as she walked by. “Did he really give you those brownies?” she asked. “I’m Darcy Lewis, by the way. I made--”

“Really good brownies,” Callahan said. “You’re Lewis?”

“Yup,” Darcy said.

“He did give them to us,” Callahan said.

“Good,” Darcy said. “He told me he did. Well, thank you.”

“I’ll take more brownies any time,” Callahan said. “I’m not some dessert hating fitness nut.” She grinned.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Darcy said. It might be fun to have a mole on Rumlow’s team, she thought mirthfully.

* * *

“Boss,” Callahan said, as Rumlow and Rollins returned from the gym back to the eighth floor. 

“Yeah?” Brock said.

“Darcy Lewis was here,” Callahan said, grinning widely. 

“So?” Brock asked.

“You didn’t say she was so good looking,” Callahan said. Brock looked at Jack.

“She’s good-looking?” Rumlow asked.

“I’ve never seen her,” Rollins said. “Just Foster.”

“What’s she look like?” Brock said, curious.

“Brunette with a body to die for, boss,” Callahan said. “She left you a note.”

“Oh,” Brock said. He got the note out of his tray and went into his office, frowning at it quizzically. “Huh.”

“What’s it say?” Jack asked. Jack had followed him inside.

“She thinks I did something to her boss?” Rumlow said. “Weird.” He studied the note, then shrugged. “Strange women,” he said.

“You aren’t curious?” Jack said.

“I’m dating somebody,” Brock said.

“Sure. A married sheila,” Jack said. “And it sounds like this one’s flirting with you. Sending you things, the little notes…” Shaking his head, Brock scoffed.

“You get more Australian when you have crazy theories, you know that?” he told Jack.

“I do?” Jack said.

“C’mon,” Brock said. He looked at the note. “I’m not interested in Lewis.” He tossed it in the trash. Jack shook his head.

“You ought to investigate the possibility,” Jack said. Brock could tell the Australian was about to dig in. He sighed.

“Fine,” Brock said. “I’ll introduce myself, but just to be polite.”

* * *

“Here’s your soy mocha latte,” she said, passing it to Jane. “And my delicious peppermint mocha.” Darcy had just returned from the coffee shop.

“Thank you,” Jane said, smiling at her in a weird way. 

“What?” Darcy said, just as her lab phone rang. “Hello?” she said.

“Darcy Lewis?” a male voice said.

“Yes?” Darcy said.

“This is Brock Rumlow,” he said. 

“Ohhh, hello, Commander Rumlow,” Darcy said. “That was quick.”

“I knew it!” Jane said randomly. “You were gone too long--” Darcy frowned into the phone. Rumlow had said something, obscured by Jane’s squeal.

“What was that?” Darcy asked. “Jane is being weird today. I blame you.”

“That’s my fault?”

“Yup. What did you say?” Darcy said.

“Would you like to get coffee with me?” he said. There was something oddly familiar in his voice, she thought.

“I have coffee, but--” Darcy said.

“You eat chocolate?” Rumlow said.

“I do,” Darcy said, feeling odd. 

“I want to make sure we settle this truce thing,” he told her. 

“Okay,” Darcy said. When she hung up, she looked at Jane. “He wants to buy me a slice of cheesecake from downstairs?” she said. Jane was almost smirking at her.

“Sure,” Jane said. “Cheesecake, huh?” Darcy stood up, frowning. 

“Yeah,” she said. She stood up. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Take your time,” Jane said. “Especially if you bribe me with cheesecake.”

“Sure,” Darcy said, confused.

* * *

Brock went downstairs a few minutes after his phone call with Lewis. He’d been delayed by a question from Evans and called Callahan on his way across the lobby. “You remember what Darcy Lewis was wearing?” he asked, realizing there were tons of brunettes at SHIELD.

“A sweater?” Callahan said. “Curly hair, too.”

“Thanks,” Brock grumbled. “Real specific, STRIKE agent.”

“Why not look up her in the database?” Callahan offered.

“Good idea,” Brock said. He ended the call and tapped his phone. There was an app. It was easy enough to look up someone’s file, at his clearance lev--- “Oh fuck,” Brock said. “Fuck.” 

It couldn’t be. 

It was.

Darcy Lewis’s face looked at him from the screen. He knew that face. It was the face of the woman who’d woken him up yesterday morning, dotting his chest with kisses. The one who made fun of his “old man” music collection. He looked into the coffee shop’s lobby-facing window, some twelve feet away. It took him a moment see her, tucked at a side table. It was his Dollface. Darcy Lewis was his girlfriend. He hit a button on his phone in a blind panic. “Help,” Brock said, as the phone rang.

“Hullo, asshole,” Jack said. “You make peace yet?” Brock heard him bite into an apple, crunching noisily.

“Jack, you gotta help me,” Brock said. “Get down here.”

“What?” Rollins said.

“It’s her--my girlfriend--” Rumlow said, unable to make words.

“I’m not following you, mate,” Jack said.

“I’ve been dating Darcy Lewis,” Brock said in a heated whisper.

“What?” Jack said. “I can’t hear you.”

“The. Girl. I’ve. Been. Dating. Is. Darcy. Lewis.” He clipped the words out.

“It sounds like you said the girl you’ve been dating is D--oh shit,” Jack said.

“Uh-huh,” Rumlow said. “Jack, she hates me.”


	6. face to face again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing

“Jack,” Brock said. They were standing in the lobby, obscured by a column. Darcy Lewis was visible in the coffee shop. “Go talk to her, tell her you’re me,” he begged. “Find out if she hates me for real.”

“I can’t bloody pretend to be you!” Jack said. 

“Why not?” Brock said.

“I’m  _ Australian,”  _ Jack said, as if he was particularly dim. “That might stand out a bit, wouldn’t it?”

“Use your American accent,” Brock said, trying to lean around the column without being seen. 

“You want me to grunt? You know my American’s lousy,” Jack complained. “And what are you going to do, pretend to be somebody else?”

“Yeah,” Brock said, grimacing. He sighed. He was so in love with her, he thought.

“Who?” Jack said.

“I don’t fucking know,” Brock said. “I’ll think of something. Use my middle name or some shit.”

“You have a middle name?” Jack said.

“Everybody has a middle name,” Brock said.

“I’ve never heard anybody mention your middle name,” Jack said. Brock huffed.

“My middle name is--it’s fucking Calgero, okay?” Brock said. “Nobody mentions it because I didn’t want anybody to know.”

“Calgero?” Jack repeated. His expression was baffled.

“Don’t start,” Brock said. “I can’t believe you won’t pretend to be me for one fucking afternoon.”

“I’m not bloody doing it,” Jack said, digging in stubbornly. “I don’t do mad things like that any more. What are you doing?” the Australian asked. Brock had pulled out his phone and was dialing rapidly. 

“If you won’t, I know who would,” Brock said. “It’s not the craziest thing he’s ever done.”

* * *

“Commander Rumlow?” Darcy said, when the man hovered over her table. He had an unusual, stiff-legged gait and an even more striking face. No wonder Jane had said meeting him was memorable, Darcy thought, taking in his angular jaw, dark hair, and general aura of broodiness. He did look intimidating. And somehow attractive. If she wasn’t already seriously smitten with Gym Guy, Rumlow would have caught her eye. “You’re late,” she sassed him.

“Yeah,” he said, giving her a smile that changed his entire face, taking it from brooding to sweet in a second. It was all she could do not to  _ awwww _ . “I’m sorry. Miss Lewis, ma’am,” he added politely, ducking his head. Rumlow’s voice was raspy. 

“Are you ma’aming me?” Darcy said, stunned. “Brock Rumlow is ma’aming me?” She looked around, as if seeking help, and he grinned.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. 

“I think you should sit down, Brock,” Darcy told him. “I’m worried you’re sick or something.” He laughed.

“It’s a dumbass name,” he said. “Brock.  _ Brock.”  _

“Well, I mean,” Darcy said, gesturing, “it does have a whole Rock McMuscles vibe? But I thought you guys all leaned into that on the STRIKE teams? Being as fit as Cap?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, beaming at her. “I’m a real fitness freak. Rock McMuscles,” he repeated, laughing. He leaned in and drummed his fingers over the table. They were large, physically sturdy hands. “So, about that cheesecake, gorgeous--” he began.

“Ohhhhh,” Darcy said, “this is a change from  _ leave my coffee stuff alone, you child?”  _

“I’m a changed man,” he said, openly flirting now.

* * *

“Is he flirting with her?” Brock said, listening to their conversation via comms. “You motherfucker--” he began, stepping forward automatically. He was going to charge into the coffee shop, but Jack flung an arm out.

“What are you bloody doing?” Jack said.

“I’m gonna kick his ass,” Brock said. “He’s flirting with my girlfriend!”

“You cannot kick his ass, that’s Frank Castle,” Jack said. “He’s a violent lunatic at the best of times.”

“I could,” Brock said stubbornly. “I’m just as crazy as him.”

“Right, mate,” Jack said.

  
  


* * *

“I’m glad we made these plans,” Rumlow told Darcy. “I wouldn’t want to be one of those guys who’s, uh, afraid to talk to you. Or eat cheesecake,” he said, holding up his fork and smiling.

“Who’s afraid of cheesecake?” Darcy said, smiling. “Cheesecake is wonderful.” She frowned at her fork. “How could you scorn cheesecake?”

“There’s weird shit in this world, lemme tell you,” Rumlow said.

“I know!” Darcy said. “But I’ve seen more aliens than non-cheesecake people.”

“Aliens, huh?” he said.

“Two kinds,” Darcy said. “First, there were the Asgardians. They’re like World of Warcraft aliens, really. And then there was the pasty dudes from the other space. Dark elves.”

“Dark elves are pasty?” he said.

“Yup,” she said. “But they do have the ears. You know”--she gestured-- “a teensy bit Santa’s Workshop in a horror movie?” Rumlow laughed. Darcy couldn’t help it. “I can’t believe you laugh this much,” she told him. “I thought you were an uptight asshole!”

“I probably was an uptight asshole,” he said, still smiling. 

* * *

“Can you believe this asshole?” Brock said to Jack. “He’s mocking my diet and calling me an asshole!”

“Uh-huh,” Jack said, grinning.

“Gentlemen,” a voice said behind them. It was Maria Hill. Jack turned and pasted on what he hoped was an innocent look. “Why are you watching Darcy Lewis and Frank Castle in the coffee shop?”

“For, uh, security reasons?” Jack said.

“Training exercise,” Brock said at the same time. Hill looked at them skeptically.

“I don’t know what’s going on here, but it better not lead to an HR complaint,” she said.

“Of course not,” Brock said.

“You haven’t seen Jane Foster in a meeting, but I will sicc her on you,” Hill said calmly. “And you will live to regret it.”

“I’m sure Rumlow would,” Jack cracked, repressing a giggle. 

“Shut up,” Brock said, glaring at him.

“Behave yourselves, I’m not your mother,” Hill said. “Whatever this is, I have zero sympathy and I don’t want to deal with trouble.”

* * *

“Why don’t you have dinner with me sometime?” Rumlow asked her. Darcy felt herself grin.

“You’re really sweet,” she said. “Surprisingly.”

“I am,” he said, nodding.

“I wasn’t expecting it, though. Given our history and the whole feud,” Darcy clarified.

“I’ve totally forgotten about the feud,” Rumlow said.

“Since when?” Darcy asked.

“About a minute before you looked up,” he told her. “Just disappeared, like this.” He mimed a mic drop. “When I saw you sitting here, waiting for my jerkass to show up.”

“Oh em gee,” Darcy said. “That is a  _ great  _ line.”

“Yeah?” he said, smiling. “I was stupid to fight with you, by the way. A total dipshit. Brock Rumlow, SHIELD’s biggest fucking moron.”

“I accept that premise,” Darcy said.

“Is that a yes on dinner?” he asked.

“I like you now,” Darcy said. 

“Now,” he mouthed. 

“As of five minutes ago. But I’m with somebody--I have a boyfriend,” she said, words tumbling out. “He’s the best guy and we’re really, really happy.”

“That right?” Rumlow said.

“I love him,” Darcy confessed. From somewhere in the lobby, there was a wild screech. She peered around Rumlow’s shoulder. “Did you hear that?” she asked. He was frowning.

“Yeah,” he said. “Couldn’t fucking miss it.”

* * *

“She loves me,” Brock said to Jack. He’d screeched and then grabbed the Australian in a hug. “Did you fucking hear that? She loves me!”

“Mate, she thinks Frank Castle’s you,” Jack reminded him, shaking his head.

“I’ll change my name,” Brock said, clearly pretending that was actually a plan. He glanced back. “She’s leaving, she’s leaving,” he said, expression alarmed. He dragged Jack backwards. “Fall back! Fall back!” Brock hissed. “Oh, thank God,” he said, when Darcy didn’t look their way. Brock stared at her retreating back. “I’m gonna tell her that I love her, too,” he said.

“How?” Jack said.

Over his comms, Jack heard Frank Castle laughing in the coffee shop. “Rumlow,” Frank said. “You’re a dumbass.”

* * *

As she walked across the lobby, Darcy’s phone dinged. She looked down at the screen, detouring around a group of mid-level analysts with a tiny wave.

**Cross_Bonez_DC:** I love you, sweetheart. 

**Dollface_D:** Ditto.

**Cross_Bonez_DC:** Yeah? 

**Dollface_D:** What made you decide to say it via text, huh?

**Cross_Bonez_DC:** I’m so fucking happy. So happy.

**Dollface_D:** Me, too.

**Cross_Bonez_DC:** How bout dinner tonight?

**Dollface_D:** Perfect.

**Dollface_D:** Have I told you that you’re perfect?

  
  


A smiling Darcy was riding the elevator when she realized she’d forgotten something. “Shit!” she said out loud. “Jane’s cheesecake!” She tapped the elevator buttons hurriedly. Jane did not forgive errors when they involved shorting her on desserts. Nuh-uh. Nope. No way. 

She hopped off the elevator and turned towards the coffee shop, then stopped in her tracks. Her boyfriend, Rumlow, and another, taller man were having some sort of conversation. It looked heated. Rumlow stepped closer as Gym Guy poked him in the chest. “Don’t hit on my girl,” he was saying, when Rumlow scoffed.

“She don’t even know who you are, asshole!” Rumlow said. 

“Hey!” Darcy said, waving her arms. The three men froze and turned to look at her.

“Fuuuuck,” Rumlow drawled out. “You done it now.”

“Shut up,” Gym guy said. “You asshole.” The third man had merely gone pale. He had a menacing, borderline rabid expression.

“What’s going on? Why are you fighting?” Darcy said, crossing her arms. “What are you doing here?” she asked her boyfriend.

“Honey,” Gym Guy said. 

“He works here,” Rumlow said.

“What?” Darcy said.

“Rumlow, you better bloody explain,” the third man said. He had an Australian accent. But instead of looking to his left, where Rumlow was standing, ears red with embarrassment, the Australian looked to his right, where her boyfriend was standing.

“Sweetheart,” he began. “I can explain everything.”

“What?” Darcy said. “What are you saying?”

“I’m--I’m, uh,” he said.

“He’s Brock Rumlow,” her cheesecake buyer said. 

“But you’re Brock Rumlow!” she said.

“I’m Frank Castle,” the man said. “You been dating Brock Rumlow this whole time, only he’s too chickenshit to tell you that he’s Brock Rumlow,” he said, jerking his thumb towards Gym Guy.

“W-what?” Darcy said. “You’re Brock Rumlow?”

“Yes. In my defense,” Gym Guy--Brock--said slowly, “I just found out you were you today. This hasn’t been going on this whole time. Just today.” Darcy stared at him. He looked embarrassed, too.

“Baby, say something,” the real Brock said. Darcy looked around. The Australian was the only one who could meet her eyes.

“Why are you here? Did you pretend to be Brock Rumlow, too?” she asked.

“Nope,” the Australian said. “He just phoned me for moral support when he saw it was you.”

“Oh,” Darcy said.

“I’m Rollins,” he said.

“Okay,” Darcy said slowly. She looked at her--Brock. “You needed moral support?” she asked archly.

“You didn’t like me!” he said, voice rising. He cleared his throat and looked at his boots. 

“He’s a bit high strung,” Frank Castle. “In addition to being chickenshit.”

“I thought you’d dump me,” Brock said, glancing at Darcy.

“Ohhh,” Darcy said.


	7. full disclosures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“You complete _idiot,”_ Darcy said. “We wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t been such a jerk about my coffee!” She’d put her hands on her hips. God, she was cute even mad, Brock thought. She looked furiously adorable.

“You were a jerk about her coffee?” Frank said, clearly enjoying himself. “That’s bad, Rumlow.” Brock felt caught. But then something occurred to him.

“Hold on,” Brock said. “You said you sabotaged the guy’s coffee. Did you sabotage my coffee?” Darcy made a face, cycling between several expressions.

“Shit,” she said.

“He’s got you there,” Frank said, chuckling. Darcy sputtered and looked vexed. Brock stepped closer, grimacing at Castle.

“Shut up, Castle,” Brock said. “Don’t insult my girl.”

“I’m here helping you!” Frank said.

“Please, you’ve been here to flirt with her since you saw what she fucking looks like,” Brock grumbled, trying to put his arm around Darcy. “Baby,” Brock said. He touched her shoulder gently. She didn’t pull away. 

“I did sub in decaf for your regular,” Darcy admitted, looking up at him critically. “But _you_ were rude and uptight.”

“Sure,” Brock said. “I was rude.” He’d decided to agree with her. He could be rude. He looked at Jack. “I’m rude and uptight sometimes, aren’t I?” he asked the Australian. 

“I think you’re bloody insane,” Jack said. Frank laughed.

“That’s good, man,” Frank said, clapping Jack’s shoulder.

“But even when he didn’t know you were you, he was obsessed with you,” Jack said to Darcy. 

“Really?” Darcy said.

“Completely mad,” Jack said. 

“That’s true,” Brock said, nodding. “I was, uh, emotionally compromised. Jack had to convince me to stop thinking about you so I could concentrate on our relationship.”

“What?” Darcy said.

“He thought you were married to some blonde bloke,” Jack supplied. “Saw ‘im with you outside a restaurant?”

“Ohhhh, that was Ian,” Darcy said. “He does work for Jane sometimes. We haven’t been together in years.”

“Yeah?” Brock said, unable to hide his delight. “You’re not married?”

“You thought I was a cheating wife?” Darcy said, narrowing her eyes.

“Uh-oh,” Frank said, snickering. Brock shot him a look, then refocused on Darcy.

“Let’s go talk in my office?” Brock suggested, steering Darcy towards the elevator. 

“This is some crazy shit,” Frank muttered. He looked at Jack. “You want a beer?”

“I bloody need one,” Jack muttered. The two men standing in the lobby heard her voice as they walked away.

“Did you think you were my sidepiece?” Darcy said. Then she started to laugh. “Jane is going to love this!” she said loudly, as they stepped on the elevator.

* * *

**Dollface_D:** This is my boyfriend. He’s kind of a himbo. [photo]

 **Cross_Bonez_DC:** what’s a himbo?

 **AussieJack:** She means you’re pretty but dim, mate

 **Cross_Bonez_DC:** Oh, ok.

 **Cross_Bonez_DC:** I am pretty, aren’t I?

 **LetsGetAstrophysical:** Amazing, the things he doesn’t hear.

 **AussieJack:** Too right, doctor.

  
  


* * *

To: [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov) ; [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

From: [ m.hill@shield.gov ](mailto:m.hill@shield.gov)

Subject: Disclosure forms

  
  


One of you needs to fill out your disclosure forms before you suck face all over social media---Hill  
  


* * *

To: [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov) ; [ m.hill@shield.gov ](mailto:m.hill@shield.gov)

From: [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov)

Subject: Re: Disclosure forms

I thought we did those, babe? -BR

  
  


* * *

To: [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov) ; [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

From: [ m.hill@shield.gov ](mailto:m.hill@shield.gov)

Subject: Re: Re: Disclosure forms

  
  


That babe better not mean me---Hill

  
  


* * *

To: [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov) ; [ m.hill@shield.gov ](mailto:m.hill@shield.gov)

From: [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Disclosure forms

I’ve got them! They were under the bed. -Darcy

* * *

  
  


To: [ b.rumlow@shield.gov ](mailto:b.rumlow@shield.gov) ; [ d.lewis@shield.gov ](mailto:d.lewis@shield.gov)

From: [ m.hill@shield.gov ](mailto:m.hill@shield.gov)

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Disclosure forms

Just turn in your paperwork and stop torturing me---Hill

-the end-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments and kudos on this one! I had a great time writing it!


End file.
